


Already Gone

by an_artsy_lexus



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, M/M, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_artsy_lexus/pseuds/an_artsy_lexus
Summary: Just a ficlet written to Sleeping at Last's cover of Already Gone. I didn't proofread, so please don't expect perfection.I do not give my consent for this fic to be reposted on any other platform.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime, Megatron/Orion Pax
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Already Gone

Megatron stared down at the Well. It was thrumming with life, healthy sparks coming to life as they always had before… Well, before the war.

He just wished it hadn’t come at the price it had.

**_{Weakling} _**the voice accused. **_{Unworthy}_**

Megatron grimaced, ignoring it. He had become used to the powerful, angry presence that haunted his processor. The same presence that added the unnecessary, predacon-like spikes to his armor. That tinted his paint job along with his ability to process clearly.

_[He was a worthy opponent, both in words and arms]_ Megatron replied. _[That you can’t deny]_

The voice remained silent for a second.

** _{Worthy in a way you will never be, failure}_ **

The voice left him be for a bit after that.

…

He hadn’t visited Kaon in a long time. It was hard to see the streets deserted. When he left, the chaotic bustle of life that precedes a war still hung over the streets. Now the dust had settled.

And the energon had spilled.

And mechs had offlined.

It was almost too much to visit his old room. He had left Kaon in a flurry, not planning to be gone nearly this long. Maybe a few stellar cycles, but not millions.

Everything was still in its place — the paint flaking, the energon dry, electricity gone — but it still stood. His pile of datapads still lay strewn about his desk, the monitor — last used to contact a confused and wounded new Prime — stood resolute and silent in the center. The windows were broken, allowing dust and debris to litter his floor. The berth was untouched, albeit dirty. It was almost too untouched.

He wandered to a datapad and watched it flicker alight. One of his last public speeches stared back at him, taunting him with naivety and passionate dreams. He set it back down.

Orion had proofread that one.

He’d probably proofread all of these.

…

_Is that really what you think, Megatron?_ A small voice, laden with static from their distance, whispered through his monitor. _Violence is not the only way to achieve your means. People will listen to reason if given time._

“There is no more time!” his fists came down hard on the desk, tears sparking his optics. “We’ve tried your way, Prime! We’ve tried the speeches, the politics… Nothing is going to change that way. My people are dying —”

_They’re my people, too, Megatron._ The little Iaconian met his optics with fierce passion. _I won’t let them die._

“Prime. They’re already dying. Do you not remember the Pits?” he hissed, sparks and coolant leaking from his optics. “No, I will get this done, whether you stay by my side or not.”

…

He traced the outline of the monitor.

** _{Stop wallowing, weakling}_ **

_[Leave me be]_

**_{I would have long ago if I could}_** A pause. **_{He should have, too}_**

_[…I know]_

…

He always seemed to find his way back to the Well these days. He sat at the edge, hugging his knees to his chest loosely like a sparkling. He watched the newsparks arise and float about, pulsing with energy and life. It brought him a melancholy sort of pride to know Prime’s spark was the reason these younglings could exist.

But it also brought pain.

A jealous, invasive, infectious sort of pain that never took its claws out of his processor.

A reminder that his rival, his brother-in-arms, the _love_ of his life was no longer here.

His optics sparked again, but he distracted himself by analyzing the colors of the sparks before him. He saw autobot blue, decepticon purple, colors of factions long past and forgotten and every shade in between.

_I wonder what color our sparkling would have had, Prime,_ he smirked.

Another spark emerged from the Well, a gentle blue. It pulsed calmly, lacking the ecstatic energy many of the other newsparks so happily spent.

And it wandered towards Megatron.

** _{Eugh, make it leave. How disgusting}_ **

_[For once in your Primus-forsaken life, shut up]_

He knew that shade. It was sickeningly familiar. It was the shade that had opened to him when its owner had never interfaced with another mech before, the shade that accepted the Matrix, the shade that he watched fade into the Well ages ago, bringing it back to life.

“Pax?” he whispered, gently reaching for the spark. The spark hummed, flickering against Megatron’s palm in binary.

_::I told you there was another way::_

He nearly purged, reeling and scrambling backwards.

** _{Fool, it’s just a spark}_ **

_[What did I just say?! Shut it]_

The spark regarded him with a wise, amused curiosity, too knowledgeable for a newspark.

_::Come now, Megatron. You act like you’ve seen a ghost::_

“You merged with the Allspark, you can’t, you aren’t…” Megatron choked, vocalizer sputtering.

_::True, I am merged with the Allspark. I cannot inhabit another body:: _The spark paused. _::I can do this, if it would put you more at ease::_ The spark fluttered and in an instant a holoform of Pax — before the war, before the Matrix — flickered to life.

Megatron stared, speechless.

“I miss you, Pax,” he finally choked out. “I can’t get rid of him. There’s nowhere I can go where I don’t feel tortured. By that, by the lack of… you.”

The holoform sat beside him, wrapping an arm formed from buzzing electricity around Megatron.

_::I know::_ Pax replied. _::I miss you, too. You know there was nothing else I could —::_

“Don’t start with me, Pax, there had to be. You of all mechs could have figured something else out,” Megatron hid his helm in his knees.

_::And yet, I did not::_ Pax remained solemn. _::Are you managing alright? Did the Decepticons reintegrate well enough?::_ The care in his voice belayed his worries for the old warlord.

“As well as they could have. I’m…” Megatron trailed off, unsure how to put it. “You know how I’m doing, you can see it.” The holoform nodded and paused for a few moments.

_::I never got to say goodbye to you::_

“We were on opposing sides of a war, Pax, that would have been insane.”

_::Then, yes. But before the war, too. I never got a chance to say goodbye before you left Cybertron::_

The warlord barked out a short laugh.

“Primus, Pax, you act like a sparkling in the thralls of their first love, convinced they would become conjunx with the first mech to return their favors. We were at war, there was no time for goodbyes.”

The holoform removed its arm, remaining eerily quiet.

“What, Pax? Why the attachment to goodbyes?” The hollow blue optics, cold and distant, locked their gaze with Megatron’s.

_::I was going to ask you::_ Pax said, voice laden with seriousness. _::I was going to ask if you would be my conjunx. Long before you left, long before the war, before the meeting with the Senate::_

Megatron balked.

“Pax, I — you know that wouldn’t have —”

_::I know, but I wanted to spend my life with you til my spark went out. I guess I did, regardless of how we spent it::_

Megatron stayed silent for a moment, watching the newsparks play.

“I would have said yes if you’d asked. I would have whisked you away on the Nemesis with me.”

_::I know::_

“We would have conquered galaxies together, we would have reclaimed Cyberton.”

_::I know::_

“Then why didn’t you ask?” Pax shrugged beside him.

_::It was never the right time, I suppose::_ Megatron growled in response.

“Stubborn aft.”

_::I could say the same about you:: _The spark laughed. _::… but it’s too late now. You have to let me go::_

…

Megatron woke up in a cold sweat, gasping through his vents and intake for air. He lay next to the Well, although he remembered falling into recharge in his berth. His chronometer told him it was early in the solar cycle.

“Pax?” he called, drifting his gaze across the well. No one answered.

When he stood, however, he found a surprise left beside him. A handcrafted spark flower, made of crystalline energon, lay on the edge of the Well.

“Sly fragger,” Megatron smirked, gently picking up the flower and storing it in his subspace.

At least he wasn’t completely gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Would anyone be interested in reading a fic series similar to this but with OCs? I'm developing a fleshed-out love story for an autobot with a telescope altmode and a seeker. They are cute and I wanna share.


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